Ashes, Ashes
by darkshadowwolfie
Summary: Partial 2p- Oliver seems nice enough! Sadly, when his adopted kids spend the night, he ends up showing another side...


_I do not own hetalia!_

_Possible triggers- There is blood and character death_

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><p>Oliver Kirkland seemed like a nice, happy guy to everyone. He could, on occasion, be a bit overly cheerful, but it was welcomed. He had odd colored eyes, and one could never tell whether they were pink, blue, or both. He liked to wear a pink pull-over vest over a light blue shirt, with light colored pants and a blue bowtie. One of his more prominent features were his eyebrows, which were thick and ginger-colored. Often, people would come to visit and find him baking. Which is exactly how Alfred, Matthew, Jack, and Kaelin found him when they walked in.<p>

"Hey, Ollie!" Alfred called, making him look up from his pink-and-blue frosted cupcakes.

"Ah, hello, poppet!" Oliver exclaimed cheerfully, walking over. His eyes sparkled happily, and he gave each of them a swift hug. They had been dropped off by Francis, and were in their mid-teens. Some of them were related by blood, and had been adopted by the two men, who loved them deeply. Oliver ushered them all inside, offering to take their jackets. He had been brought up as a proper English gentleman, and still clung to some of his habits. Once they were settled down, Oliver went back to his beloved cupcakes, putting the finishing touches on them. Once he had finished, he brought them out along with some tea, just in case anyone wanted some.

"So... Please, tell me how everything's been!" Alfred started right off, talking about school, his sports, friends he'd made, things like that. Matthew and Kaelin were, for the most part, ignored. Kaelin because he was very quiet, and Matthew because no one ever seemed to notice him. Oliver listened with a pleasant smile on his face. Eventually, he stood up, brushing cupcake crumbs from his pants. It had gotten late.

"Well, I suppose Francis means for you to spend the night here!" He exclaimed, heading upstairs to get the bedrooms ready. Francis hadn't moved in yet, though both he and Oliver were eager for it to happen. After making sure the bedrooms were ready for the teens downstairs, he called them up. Rubbing their eyes sleepily and yawning, they slipped into bed. Oliver gave each of them a kiss on the forehead before saying goodnight and walking out, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Going downstairs again, he began to clean up from his baking. Crumbs and such went into the garbage, and soon he went to washing the dishes, trying to do it quickly so he had a bit of time to himself. He had reached the bottom of the dishpan, working to clean the utensils, when a sharp prick was felt on his finger. Lifting his hands from the dishwater, a stream of red could be seen on his forefinger. He cursed softly under his breath (bloody hell) and went to get a bandage for it. The red color was quite pretty...

Late turned to later, and soon it was time for him to go to sleep unless he wished to be tired the next day. The thought crossed his mind that he should check on the boys first, and as he climbed the stairs the thought of that pretty red color came to him. It was so beautiful~ why should the world not be dyed that same beautiful red? A quiet laugh escaped him, although at the same time he was confused. Why was he laughing? Best not dwell on unpleasant thoughts, though. They would only serve to give him more nightmares. More dreams of the corpses he despised, and yet he always had an odd liking of them, for they were always dyed red.

Oliver realized that he was now right in front of their room, and blinked in surprise. He must've been too lost in thought to notice. Shrugging, he silently opened the door, letting in a small bit of light that was just enough so that he could see one of them sitting up. It was Matthew, who he often ignored. He didn't mean to though, and felt quite guilty about it. He walked over, being careful to not wake the others.

"Something wrong, poppet?" he asked softly, making Matthew turn to face him.

"Oh- j-just a nightmare..." tear streaks were evident on the other's face.

"...do you need help falling asleep?" a small smile crossed Oliver's face. His hand was in his pocket.

"...o-oui." ah, so Matthew had been learning French. Oliver drew a pocketknife from his vest pocket, an almost crazy look in his eyes. However, it couldn't be seen with the limited light. Why was he so excited? Before Oliver really thought about what he was doing, Matthew was on the ground, pitiful squeaks escaping him. But with Oliver's hand on his throat, the poor boy could barely make a noise. The knife slashed once, but that was all Oliver needed for that beautiful red to come gurgling up. Matthew had tears in his eyes, trying to talk. It only made the bleeding worse. Red stained his neck, flowing onto the sheets underneath him and continuing to stain his clothes and soft blond hair. It didn't take long for the light to fade from Matthew's once vibrant purple eyes.

Oliver stepped back to admire his work, turning at a soft whimper behind him. Kaelin was staring at him with a horrified look on his face. He and Matthew were not related, but had become as close as brothers in their time together. Jack was also looking at him, but had moved to protect his brother if needed. The two boys actually were related by blood, just as Matthew and Alfred were. Oliver grinned and took a step forward, and Jack immediately drew Kaelin close to him.

"Ah, don't worry, poppet~ it won't hurt~" Oliver said reassuringly, smiling at the two. Alfred was still asleep in his little corner, and the two boys who were still awake stood up, retreating to the opposite corner.

"D-dad….? A small whimper escaped Kaelin's throat again. He didn't want to die! Jack, who had always been the braver of the two, snarled at the British man.

"Don't come any closer!"Oliver merely grinned, ignoring him, reaching forward and grabbing Kaelin's arm. A small squeak came from from him, trying to pull away. Jack lashed out at the brit, making him laugh and swing the pocketknife. A line of red slowly appeared on Jack's cheek, and his hand rose to touch it, smearing the red. As soon as he did, his protective grip on Kaelin lessened, and Oliver was able to pull the quiet boy forward, the knife piercing his flesh and causing him to cry out in pain. Kaelin looked down at the handle protruding from his stomach, paling considerably. A gleeful laugh could be heard from Oliver, who wrenched the knife out, pushing Kaelin into Jack's arms.

"K-Kaelin….?" His voice cracked pitifully. Jack couldn't believe his eyes. Kaelin was the one closest to him. He couldn't die! Kaelin seemed to be in shock, letting out little gasps.

"Jack...? Am I going to die…?" Kaelin murmured. Jack shook his head. Anything to comfort his little brother. Even though Oliver was watching happily, Jack managed to smile.

"Of course you w-won't die, Kaelin….! It's just a dream…. Don't worry…." Kaelin matched his brother's smile.

"I knew it….as soon as I wake up, I can see you again! And Alfred… and Matthew…..I can't wait…." He came to a shuddering halt.

"Kaelin….?" Jack asked hopefully. There was no reply from the boy in his arms. "Kaelin, dammit! Wake up!" he let out a cry of pure rage, setting the other down and lunging at Oliver. They tumbled to the ground, Jack's eyes full of hate and despair. "Damn you, Oliver!" the teen placed his hands around Oliver's neck, gripping it tightly. This only lasted a few tense moments, however, before Jack's eyes widened and he fell to the ground, red liquid pooling around a hole where his heart should be.

"So sorry, poppet….." Oliver stood, tossing the bloody heart aside before turning to the last boy. He was still asleep….. Oliver snuck over, carefully waking him. "Alfie….. Alfie, wake up~" bright blue eyes slowly opened, and Alfred turned to face Oliver while rubbing sleepily at them.

"Hm…?" he mumbled, before finally noticing the blood covering Oliver. A piercing scream was the last thing heard by Oliver before he plunged the knife into Alfred's throat. It was going to be a long night~

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><p>Francis knocked on the door, a bit irritated by the lack of response. "Oliver! Hello?" he called, finally just giving up and reaching underneath the doormat to grab the spare key. He fit it into the lock, turning it with a satisfying click before stepping in. he glanced around and froze, trying to comprehend what was in front of him.<p>

His adopted children, the ones he loved so much, hung from the ceiling, their lifeless bodies still dripping the occasional bit of blood onto the floor. None of them had eyes, and instead black sockets stared at him, the red giving the impression that the corpses had been crying blood. All of them were smiling, dark grins carved into their flesh.

"W-what….." his voice trembled, spotting a huddled shape in the corner. It was Oliver, still blood covered. He was no longer smiling. "O-Oliver, what happened….?!" He demanded, on the verge of breaking down.

"….all dead…" came his reply. "The children are dead, Francis…."

Francis broke into sobs, and through his broken tears the lifeless corpses seemed to laugh at him.

- Fin -

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><p><strong><em>Thank you for reading! Please review, and maybe suggest another story prompt!<em>**


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